Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,431

was prepared to transform and light the landscape afire. It shamed him that the human’s offhand suggestion should have already been a done thing, that he should be out there even now, flying over the countryside in search of Awrak.

“You shall stay here, Kalena,” he responded as soothingly as possible. “And Leonin will be your guard. I will search for Awrak alone.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked, eyes so wide he thought he might willingly fall into them.

“What Leonin just sssuggested.”

He undid his belt, handing the sheath and sword to the human. For all its size, the chamber had an entrance too low and narrow for him to fit through once he changed. Morgis would have to step outside, likely halfway down the ruined path. Even among dragons, he was considered a giant.

“Please take care!” Kalena called after him.

Her concerned heartened him as he stepped out into the ungodly night. Morgis kept a sharp eye out as he wended his way down, still hoping to find some trail leading to Awrak. Curiously, without a sword, he felt somewhat naked. The drake had little desire to change to his birth form, but that choice had been taken from him.

When he felt he had moved far enough away from the keep, Morgis took a deep breath and readied himself. Almost two years had passed since his last transformation.

But as he drew upon his innate magic, willed his body to both shift in shape and grow in size, a familiar tingling touched every nerve.

The transformation faltered.

“What’sss thissss?” he muttered, body shaking and head suddenly throbbing.

From out of the dead forest burst several armored forms.

The Aramites moved like shadows come to life, their ebony armor adding to their eerie and shocking appearance. Most wielded long, narrow swords. Morgis’s eyes registered at least six of the wolf raiders, three on each side of him. He instinctively went for his sword, then cursed his folly for having left the weapon behind.

But with or without a sword and although trapped in a mortal form, the drake was hardly defenseless. As the first Aramite came at him, Morgis twisted to the side, letting the blade’s edge pass within inches of his chest. He then seized hold of the raider’s wrist and pulled the Aramite forward using a strength far superior to any one human.

With a cry, his first foe went flying into the air, colliding with a satisfying crash into two of those attacking from the opposite direction.

Seizing the weapon of one of the fallen raiders, Morgis turned to confront the remaining trio.

“Slithering out of the shadows, eh? You are not the sons of the wolf! More like the get of a serpent!”

He met the arcing blades of two of the Aramites, first deflecting them, then swinging with such brute force that the raiders retreated. The third attacker thrust as Morgis completed his swing, nearly catching the drake under the sword arm.

As Morgis fell back, one of raiders he had bowled over started to rise. Seizing the still-stunned figure by the collar, the scaled knight pulled the hapless villain in front just as three swords sought the drake’s heart.

Two of the points buried themselves in the Aramite’s neck and shoulder. With a quiet grunt, Morgis’s human shield slumped forward, momentarily blocking the other raiders.

But even as one opponent fell, more spilled out of the woods. One leapt at Morgis too eagerly and for his zealousness received a thrust through the unprotected throat. The drake managed to punch another, sending him sprawling, then jumped over the body.

Twice more he deflected their attacks, managing to wound one foe in the sword arm, but Morgis knew the odds were against him. One-to-one or even three-to-one, he had little doubt as to his victory, but against so many…

And then the tingling he had felt earlier returned, but with a painful vengeance. Roaring, Morgis fell to one knee, his grip on his weapon all but lost.

The Aramites fell on him then, trying to bury him under their combined mass. The mob assault actually took his mind from the agony within and the drake threw himself into the fight. With some pleasure, he heard bone crack as he hit one adversary. Seizing another, Morgis pushed to his feet and threw the struggling figure as hard as he could.

But his respite did not last. The pain returned, forcing him to the earth. Now the wolf raiders took distinct pleasure in pummeling him. They beat at the drake again and again, cursing him with